Glader A20 - The Companion - A Maze Runner Trilogy Story
by TheGoldenApple10
Summary: This fanfiction takes up the perspective of Will, named after William the Conqueror, a Glader who arrived in The Glade a couple months before Thomas, and what happens to him throughout the Trials. Will is a med-jack and is selfless and determined to survive the Trials. This story expands the roles of certain Gladers, such as Clint. Read on! Rated T. (Current Book: Scorch Trials)
1. Chapter 1: The Greenie

It was dark. I awoke with a gasp, looking around. _Where am I?_ I had no memory of entering this elevator, which was moving up with quickening speed. Actually, I had no actual memory at all. I could only remember my name. It was William. I could remember some things, like how the grass was green and there were four seasons every year. It was agonizing, remembering nothing but everything. I decided to finally take in my clothing in the dim light. I was wearing faded jeans, and a pale-blue shirt that fit loosely which cut off at my forearms, which felt warm and comfortable, as if I'd been wearing it my entire life. Panic flooded in again, with a barrage of questions flooding my mind. I refused to scream, tears threatening to spill down my eyes. There were crates around me, and I was drenched with sweat. _Who the hell put me here?_

Then the elevator stopped. Panic was replaced by fear. Slowly, but surely, the top hatch of the elevator slid open. And I saw a giant group of boys, standing over me. I didn't let the tears come, but instead my mouth dropped, observing all of them. Were they going to kill me? Not now I noticed a kid, black and muscular. I thought he was going to kill me. But instead, the kid jumped in the box. With a smile, he said, "Welcome to the Glade, Greenie." The kid extended an arm, and with hesitation, I grasped it. He pulled me up, and I climbed up out of the box. The other boys, numbering about 44 at a guess, stared me down. Some were smiling, others glaring, many of which with blank faces. I turned towards the kid who helped me out.

"What?" I croaked out. Someone snickered.  
>"This," said the kid, "Is the Glade. Where we work, eat, and live." He continued on, but it blurred out. I noticed in the southwest, there was a forest. Near it, a barn, and various animal pens. Cows, sheep, you name it. I turned around. A large building. Maybe a home? Then some gardens. But that wasn't what caught my attention. What caught my attention were the giant walls surrounding the Glade. There were 4 spaces, too. They were-<p>

"Hey! Shank, you listening?" The kid snapped. I focused my attention on him.

"Uh, sorry. What?"

"Like I was saying. We live, work, and eat here. We call it The Glade. These boys, they're Gladers. Remember that, now. The Gladers have specific jobs. The boy pointed out various people, calling out their names. Among those were Frypan, Clint, Zart, Winston, and a couple others. "And me," he said, "I'm Alby." He extended a hand, and I shook it with hesitation.

"And what's yours?" Someone from the crowd asked.

"It's..." I paused. "It's William."

"Welcome, Greenie," someone greeted, and a couple other Gladers nodded in agreement. Soon after, they stopped, and dispersed, heading back to various locations in the Glade. Alby stood by.

"Hey, um, Alby," I stuttered.

"Yeah, Greenie?" He responded. _What in the hell was a 'Greenie?'_

"What do I look like?"

Alby looked as if he was pondering the mysteries of life. "I'd say you're about sixteen. You've got green eyes and brown hair. That good enough for you?" I nodded. Alby yelled out some name, and soon a Glader who I'd say was my age appeared. "Give William here the tour," Alby commanded. The boy nodded, and with his hand signified for me to come with him.

"Alright, Greenie, so you know this is the Glade," The boy started. I still didn't know what a Greenie was, so I chose to ignore the phrase.

"Yeah."

"So, that's the Homestead. Where Frypan cooks. Most of us sleep outside, but if you want, you can sleep indoors." Basic knowledge. So where we eat and possibly sleep. All I need to know. The boy turned towards the gardens. "Gardens. Self-explanatory. Where we get fresh water and where the Track-Hoes, Gladers who farm, give us fresh vegetables and fruit." The kid turned around, pointing towards the elevator I came out of.

"The Box. We get a fresh Glader every month and supplies every week. It's been that way for a year and a half, from what I've heard. Only been here three months." The boy flashed me a goofy grin, and then nodded towards the forest. "Deadheads. A forest with a cemetery in it. Go knock yourself out," the boy reported. Finally, he turned towards the barn and animal pens. "That is the Bloodhouse. It's where the Slicers raise and kill animals. Do you like blood? Well go on and be a Slicer." I shuddered at the thought of that. Then my mind reverted to the doors.

"What's out there?" I asked.

The boy sighed, looking around as if he was to tell an important secret. "Out there, is The Maze. Closes every night, rearranges itself every day. A select few Gladers, Runners, the best of the best, look for a way out. Alby said he's been doing it for two whole years. Nobody has ever survived a night in The Maze."

"Why not?"

"There's some...freaky shucking stuff out there. They call 'em Grievers. I'd klunk my pants four times over rather than go against one of them." _Klunk? Shucking?_ Did part of my vocabulary get removed? I decided not to question it, and went along with it.

"So what's your name?" I asked him.

"Frankie," he replied.

"Okay, Frankie, now what? You've given me the tour."

"Well, you'll probably get taken by Newt to see what job fits ya tomorrow. Hopefully you won't be a shank Slopper." Frankie chuckled as if he'd just told the joke of the decade.

"What job are you?" I asked.

"Me? I'm a Builder."

"Also, what is a 'Greenie?' I keep getting called it."

"Well, you're a Greenbean. The newest arrival. Greenie, Greenbean, Newbie, whatever you prefer."

I devoured the dinner I was served. It consisted of mashed potatoes, steak, and corn. I almost choked on it, and a Glader sitting next to me said, "Whoa, now, Newbie, don't choke on it. I feel like Frypan wouldn't like it much if someone was killed by his food." A couple other Gladers chuckled, and Frypan, a Glader who couldn't have been more than sixteen but had a beard, shot him a dirty look. "Slim it, Tim," Frypan muttered, causing the Glader, Tim, to laugh again. After dinner, I relaxed on the ground, looking up at the stars. Something didn't feel right. I had a million questions, but I didn't dare ask anyone, not even Frankie, who was lying a couple feet away from me.

"Have good first day, Greenie?" He yawned.

"Define good," I muttered. I heard a chuckle from Frankie.

"You'll get used to The Glade eventually, don't you worry a bit."

I closed my eyes, and with questions still flooding my mind.

I was awoken with a light kick. I opened my eyes to see a Glader, with blond hair, staring down at me.

"Hey there, Greenie," He said in a chipper voice. I couldn't determine the source of his accent.

"Uh, yeah, hey," I groaned, the grogginess of sleep still wearing over me.

"Time for you to get a job," He told to me, before extending a hand. I took it, and before long I was following him. After a breakfast of bacon and eggs, I was to work with Winston for the day. Winston seemed like an alright guy, but before long I regretted eating food. I had cut up a couple cows and almost convinced myself never to eat steak again, but decided against it. I wasn't mean to Winston, but I was *this* close to asking him how he hasn't thrown up yet. Next off, Track-Hoes. Not only did the work break my back, but it was boring. The Keeper, Zart, didn't seem to like it, either. He always seemed bored, half-asleep. He didn't smell nice either, like milk or food gone rotten. He told me about the various jobs: Runners, Med-Jacks, Baggers, Sloppers, and everything far and few between. By the time I was done, I was convinced that I wanted to be a Med-Jack. I told this to Newt, and the boy begrudgingly let Clint take me for some basic medical lessons (He insisted I was to see how good a Bricknick I could be). Clint taught me some medical procedures, how to stitch a wound, and where the best spot was to administer the Grief Serum, a medicine which was designed to cure Gladers stung by Grievers. In the next few weeks, I became an official Med-Jack. I met Jeff, another Med-Jack, and Minho, a muscular Asian kid who was Keeper of the Runners. He didn't look too happy that the Greenbean was a Med-Jack, but eventually he seemed to get used to me. Nothing happened for the next 5 months or so, and life was simple as could be in The Glade. A couple new Gladers arrived (I never used the term "Greenie"), the newest arrival some kid named Chuck who looked to be only thirteen years old. Then, one day, Ben stumbled into the Homestead. And he was stung. Jeff got him on the table, Clint ordered some Glader named Adam to get Newt and Alby, and I got the Grief Serum. I administered it where I was told to, and I left the room when Alby and Newt burst in. I had just entered the kitchen to raid a sandwich of Frypan's when the alarm when off. Another Glader. I darted to where The Box was, and gathered around the other Gladers. When the box came up, a boy who looked like me, only with brown eyes, was sitting down in The Glade. Alby jumped down to help him, as he did every other Glader.

"Hey there, Greenie," Alby said. "What's your name?"

"Thomas," the boy replied after what seemed like forever.

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><p><strong>Hey all! Thanks for reading my first chapter of 'A20!' This fanfic will be starred around William's, named after William Howard Taft, journey through The Trials. Whether or not he'll survive would have to be up to me. This fanfiction won't have any romances, as far as I'm concerned. If so, they won't be between William and a Group B girl. Will's title is "The Companion" due to his selfless behavior in The Maze Runner and his friendship with the other Gladers. He shouldn't have a title because he is just an ordinary Glader but I decided to go along with it.<br>**

**William is a personal OC, and most of the story will be taught through his perspective. This will also expand the roles of other Gladers, like Frankie, Winston, Clint, and the rest. I also intend for some new Gladers to be introduced, just so there aren't so many randoms in The Glader ranks. These Gladers will most definitely die, as only specific characters survived, but still, it feels better.  
><strong>

**Stay tuned for next chapter! Give feedback!**


	2. Chapter 2: Something Amiss

The new Glader, Thomas, asked questions left and right. A curious one, he was. Alby ordered Chuck, the previous newbie, to give him a tour. In my opinion, that wasn't the wisest choice, but I didn't want to question the Glader. I was heading back to The Homestead with Jeff when I heard a horrible shriek that echoed across The Glade, turning my blood cold. Ben. That had happened before, to a Glader named Gally. I had never talked to him, but something always seemed off with the Glader. I forgot about him, and Ben looked absolutely horrifying when I looked at him, a sight that made me want to lose my memory all over again. I was in the Homestead, taking a bite of a ham sandwich when Thomas walked in, Chuck following him, a look of exasperation on his face.

"Aw, hell, what's this shank doing?" I heard a Glader, Theo, mutter.

"Not sure, but he's out of his shucking head," I replied to him. Then, out of the corner of my eye, I heard Gally walk in Thomas' way on the stairs. I couldn't make out what he was saying, but he was definitely insulting Thomas. At one point, I heard "You can call me Captain Gally if you want" and I heard a couple Gladers, including Frankie with his laugh that made me want to throw him into The Box, snicker at the comment. After a couple more words, Gally stepped aside, telling Thomas to go up. After some hesitation, Thomas decided to go upstairs, to where Ben was. I heard Newt yell, and after about fifteen seconds, Thomas came back down, visibly shaken up.

"Nice shucking job, Chuck," Jackson, a Glader with the job of a Bagger, grumbled. Chuck shot a glare in his direction. I decided to head upstairs, and when I opened the door Newt growled, "Thomas, if you bloody_—_Oh, it's you, Will. What is it?"

"How is he?"

"He fainted," Alby responded, not taking his eyes off of the sick boy. "You can move him now."

I nodded, and went down to get Jeff. With a quick motion of moving both my palms up, the other Med-Jack nodded and went upstairs. Jeff hoisted up Ben's left arm and left leg, while I took both of his right limbs. We hoisted him up, and walked through a hallway. I had moved a couple Gladers, but Ben was the heaviest. We took him down a hallway, and into a room with a bed, a chair and an end table. Once we got him on the bed, I let out a pant of exhaustion and learned down, putting my hands on my legs.

"God, he looks ugly," Jeff muttered aloud, eyes focused on Ben.

"Yeah...Yeah, you said it," I replied, panting out one more breath. And then suddenly Jeff's eyes lit up with something that looked like he suddenly remembered something. With a "stay here" he left the room, and he returned with a sheath of sorts with a machete in it. The sheath was designed so the strap went across your front and the machete was nestled on your back. After I took the machete out, and put the sheath on, Jeff pointed at Ben.

"If he flips out, hit him with the butt of it. He might be straight-up whacked, but hopefully the weapon will scare the shank off."

"Got it."

And with that, Jeff left the room. I was sitting in the room for a while now, keeping watch over Ben. Clint came on to check on me a couple times, and told me that if I wanted to swing and kill, aim for the neck. "Thin and vital, good for killing" he said. Something kind of strange for a med-jack to say. After he left, I fell asleep for what seemed to be an hour or so. But when I awoke, Ben was staring at me. With eyes full of rage. I felt fear rising up.

"Whoa, now, Ben, take it easy," I warned, fingers gripping the machete.

Ben started to mumble something about "being bad" but I couldn't hear it.

"Ben, chill it," I half-warned, half-commanded. Ben's eyes were crazy. Something was wrong with the shank.

"He's...**BAD!"** Ben shouted, and then let out this horrible shriek. I yelped, holding the machete towards his chest. It tore part of his shirt, with a couple drops of blood running down the blade of my weapon. Ben looked at me, a look of...almost betrayal on his face before falling to the ground. He had fainted.

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><p><strong>Thanks to all for reading the second chapter! I'll try to keep my chapters 1000+ words, but writing this is fun and comes easy to me, so I should be posting chapters more frequently. So in this chapter, it explains some stuff about Ben. Real simple. A goal of this fanfiction is to describe some of the things going on in The Glade that were left out, for example Ben's escape from The Homestead. Remember, I take Glader name suggestions, and be sure to leave feedback on what you thought!<br>**

**See you all next chapter!  
><strong>

**PS: When you post a review, I will reply to it in the chapter summary. **


	3. Chapter 3: Strange Occurences

I stayed awake the whole night, dulling off a part of a long stick I found. Somewhere, somehow, I felt like something was wrong. Dangerously wrong. They say when you go through The Changing, you get back part of your memory. Ben wanted to get at someone, Thomas I'm guessing. Something was definitely wrong. When I was done dulling off the spear, I sharpened a grip from it, then covered the grip in leather I got from the Slaughterhouse. After that, I tied a knife to the dull side of the stick, making an improvised spear. When dawn cracked, Thomas was the first to wake up. He looked at me, the crazy med-jack with a spear.

"Mornin'," I greeted.

"What? Not a Greenie?" He groaned at me, still tired.

"Nah, I don't like callin' the new ones that. You should get some rest," I told him.

"What's your name?" Thomas asked.

"William," I replied.

Thomas fell asleep. I went back to work on my spear, carving out a crooked 'William' on a part of it. It felt comfortable, despite the grip would only be held by one hand while the other hand would hold the spear further along. Oh well. I went into The Homestead, stashing it in the room where Ben was. I finally napped, awoken only by Frankie.

"Wake up," He ordered, his hazel eyes always full of either humor or confidence.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," I muttered.

"Frypan's bacon. Don't wanna miss out on that, do we now?" Frankie asked sarcastically.

I got up with that last remark. I had some of Frypan's french toast and bacon, and the bacon tasted like mud. Frankie made some jokes about his bacon, earning some snickers and laughs from the Gladers, and a whole lotta glares from the hairy cook himself. I was heading to Clint to see his opinion on asking The Creators some more bandages when I heard the alarm. A new Glader. But it had only been a day. Right? Or had it? I wasn't totally sure. I rushed out with Clint and took my spot next to some Glader, Gally. Gally was a whacked dude, by all accounts. He had endured The Changing and freaked me out. I was daydreaming about escaping The Maze, not paying attention to what anyone said until I heard Newt's voice.

"It's a bloody girl." Now, once Newt said that, all the idiots who lived in The Glade, Frankie included, starting to shout out stupid stuff, like "Dibs" or something like that. Clint pushed past me once the girl was on the ground. He bent down, inspecting her pulse and holding two fingers under her nose to see if she was breathing steadily.

"Breathing okay. Normal heartbeat," He reported. A voice, Frankie's for sure, yelled out some stupid thing about Clint getting dibs.

"Frankie, I swear, you're getting left behind once we find a way out of here," some Glader joked. A couple snickered, but then they were hushed short as the girl awoke with a gasp. Her skin was pale and she had black hair. Her eyes were full of panic, terror. She looked around.

"Everything is going to change," she muttered before closing her eyes. She had fallen asleep again.

"Alright y'all, clear a way for Will," Clint ordered, making sweeping motions with his hands. I picked up the girl, hoisting her front side over my back, both hands clasped firmly on her legs. I walked at a slow pace, all the Gladers staring at the girl. I even passed Frankie, with a mesmerized look on his face. Once we got to the rooms, I set the girl down on a bed, pulling up a chair.

"I'll watch her. Go get the Monster Soup," Jeff told me, appearing suddenly. I nodded, heading downstairs.

"Hey, Frypan, Monster Soup," I requested.

"Hardy har har," Frypan mumbled, setting to work on the Monster Soup. It's a meaty broth, good for the bones, but looked like nothing a human would ever eat. After heating it up in a bulky, small wooden bowl, I took a wooden spoon and took it upstairs. A journal and pen were placed on the end table, and Jeff started to feed the girl.

I started to leave the room, but I paused.

"Jeff?"

"Yeah?"

"I feel weird. Something bad's gonna happen, man."

"Yeah, I feel you. Ya hear what the shuck girl had written on a piece of paper?"

"No, what?"

"It said 'She's the last one. Ever.' If bad things are happening, we gotta be prepared. For the worst."

"Good that," I replied, leaving the room.

I passed by Ben, who was thrashing in his bed. I felt cold. I noticed Thomas, heading towards the forest. With the graves. I shuddered at that thought. A Glader, not sure what his name was, had been killed only two months after. All I remember is the boy's features: Small nose, brown eyes, blond hair. Giant slash across his chest. Blood everywhere. It was a mess. I'm sure he was a Builder, killed in some accident. Either way, I was looking at the new Glader when I hurt a smash and some screams. Footsteps pounding down doors. Then a door opening, and I felt pain. White, hot pain. I felt blood dripping down my back, and voices screaming. I fell down, feeling the blood pour out. I was weak. But in agony. It hurt so _shucking_ much. I wanted to scream, to thrash, to assess damage. Anything. But I couldn't. I saw a pair of shoes, then the pain quickened. I couldn't even scream in pain. The agony was unbearable. I let unconsciousness take me.

**.**

**.**

**.**

When I woke up, I was in The Homestead, in a bed. Newt was sitting next to me, eyes full of worry. Relief flooded them when he noticed me.

"Easy there, Will."

"W...What happened?"

Newt paused. "Ben," he said. "Went buggin' nuts. Tried to kill the Greenie, Thomas. Alby shot him with an arrow. We just got back this morning from deciding on what to do with the shank."

I coughed. "What?"

"For attacking you and Tommy, he's getting bloody banished."

"Good," I muttered. It was a cruel thing to say, but I had no pity for the crazy Glader. Shank stabbed me.

"Well ain't that pretty cold of ya," Newt observed.

"How long I been out?"

"About a day. Should be good, the knife was pretty dull and he didn't cut too far. I'd guess by tomorrow you'll be up on your feet."

Newt gave me a pat on the shoulder and left. I spent the rest of the day in bed, trying to rest up. Jeff came to check up on me a couple times, and Clint brought a vegetable stew for me to eat for dinner. I later shuddered, hearing Ben scream for forgiveness, the screams being cut off as the large doors to The Maze closed. I didn't sleep. I stayed up the whole night, and napped through the rest of the day. At some point, I was awoken by Clint.

"Something's wrong," He told me.

"W-what's wrong?" I asked.

"Minho and Alby went out to check on a dead Griever. They've been gone for hours. The-" Clint paused, checking his watch, "-doors to The Maze will close any minute."

I paused for a long while before getting up. A slight ache in my shoulder. "I'm fine, just leave me be," I muttered to him. He walked with me down the hall, down the stairs. A couple Gladers noticed me.

"You are one tough shank," Gally commented.

"You okay, man?" A Bricknick, Christopher, asked.

"Look who it is!" Frankie said with a smile.

I kept on walking, out the front door. Clint walked by my side, ready to assist. I noticed Winston, acne-covered, animal-slaughtering Winston, having a little picnic. I got down, eating the barely-touched pork left on a plate.

"Hey," He greeted. "What's the word?"

"I'm better. Can be up on my feet now."

"I can see that," Winston replied, grinning.

"Winston, sometimes-" Clint started but was cut off.

"_NO, THOMAS! DON'T YOU BLOODY DO IT_!" Newt screamed. I turned around just in time to see Thomas, the guy who hasn't even been here for a week, squeeze through the doors of The Maze.

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><p><strong>Thanks to all for reading! In this chapter stuff happens. Ben escapes, Teresa arrives, blah blah blah. Next chapter will be more focused on, well, I don't know, probably Frankie and Will's friendship. Anyways, thanks for reading again. Give some Glader name suggestions, and I'll see you all later!<strong>


	4. Chapter 4: Buggin' Greenies

Winston leapt from his spot at the table and was sprinting to Newt. I tried to get up, the wound still hurting. I shouldn't be running. Clint walked alongside me, my guardian angel in case I took a turn for the worse.

"What the shuck is going on?" Clint muttered.

"Looks like Thomas went into The Maze. But why?"

Then there was Newt's voice, hysterical and shouting. Shouting at Winston. "Alby and Minho didn't come back until BLOODY closing time, and the stupid Greenie went in!"

"Well, there we go, now we know," Clint commented. I took a turn, and started heading into the Homestead. I sat down on a worn-out sofa. Clint went in the kitchen to get some food, and Frankie plopped down next to me. _Oh god. Anything but Frankie. Not now.  
><em>

"So, how are ya?" Frankie asked.

"I'm...good," I replied.

"That's good. That's real good," he responded.

"Those bloody shanks!" shouted Newt, appearing in the doorway suddenly.

"What? What happened?" I heard Christopher, another quiet Med-Jack tasked with feeding Teresa who I'd never gotten to know, ask.

"Alby and Minho came to the doors, but didn't make it, so the buggin' Greenie thought himself nice and mighty to go out there and help 'em. They're all dead. Just great," Newt responded before putting his hands on his face and sinking to the floor. Christopher placed a hand on Newt's shoulder. Newt stayed in place for a few moments before getting up, and walking outside. I didn't follow him. Christopher was a tall boy, but as he went into the kitchen he seemed two feet smaller. I stared at the open door where Newt had disappeared. I closed my eyes, and when I woke up, just the slightest hint of dawn was showing. Frankie sat next to me, head to the side, blonde hair falling with the tilt of his head. I got up, and walked to the doors where Thomas had disappeared to.

And I didn't move.

Time passed. Gladers awoke. One by one, they gathered near the door. Waiting for the doors to open. And they did. And Thomas and Minho were standing there. I heard Frankie yelp, falling back. "Get up, ya shank" John, a Track-Hoe, grumbled at him, pulling him up. After the initial shock, I found myself helping Thomas into a spare room. He eased into the bed, looking up at me.

"You stung?" I asked.

"No," he replied.

"Thomas, either you're whacked, or you're the bravest shank ever."

"Probably a bit of both," the boy said, letting out a dry chuckle before closing his eyes. I was getting up when I heard Clint's voice. And out of it came a dreaded statement.

"Will, it's time. For Alby. He was stung."

**.**

**.**

**.**

You know what's kinda funny? Nobody ever explained to me the concept Gladers having multiple jobs. I just kinda helped out, but only a little with other jobs. Like I'd go get some nails for the Brick-nicks or a body bag for the Baggers. I shifted in my sleeping bag, the faint sound of crickets one of the only sounds. I heard muffled voices from The Homestead but that was pretty much it. I barely got any sleep that night, and I was groggy until Frypan made me an "Energy Soup," which looked, smelt, and tasted disgusting. I mean, that could be said for all of Frypan's food, but this was especially gross. At least it energized me. I was in The Homestead all day, refusing to leave. Tending to the girl. At one point sharpening up my spear again. I slept in The Homestead that night, one of the rare times when I did.

The next day wasn't very different, except some shank, mentioned his name was Max, almost cut off his fingers when he tried to slice up a pig. After fixing him up, I gave him a slight whack on the head for his stupidity and he was on his way. The day flew by. Just another one in The Glade. I heard Thomas was locked up in The Slammer for breaking the top rule: No leaving The Maze unless you're a Runner. At least he wasn't banished. After eating dinner, I heard Alby was walking around on his feet, but I never saw the shank. I found myself talking to Max, the Slicer who almost amputated his fingers. He was a tall boy, about my age, sixteen. He had curly red hair and a freckled face, with big brown eyes that always seemed to show with curiosity. Max was a quiet boy, though. I talked about the girl, and Thomas, and The Maze. He didn't talk much, except making a couple animal jokes that Slicers always seemed to know how to conjure up. He bade me a farewell after the horribly bad animal jokes, and went to claim a spot to sleep. I got a report on the girl from Christopher, who said she had scrawled "WICKED is good" on her arm and kept mumbling Thomas' name in her sleep, and then lay down for the night near Frankie, who theorized that Gally would come back with an army of Grievers and kill us all. "You're crazy, shank" was all I muttered before falling asleep.

The next day was the same: Get up, get a report on the girl, assign Christopher to feed her breakfast, and other tasks needed to be done. I secretly fastened a leather strap to my spear at one point around noon. John came in, limping, blood splattering his pant leg. Apparently he was stupid enough to drive a hoe into his leg. Luckily, the damage wasn't too severe, and after bandaging and cleaning the wound, I let him know that some leg rest was all he needed. I was getting ready to leave when I heard him speak.

"William?"

"Yeah?"

"What are your thoughts on the Greenie?"

I paused. "The girl or Thomas?"

John blew some air out of his mouth. "Both, I guess."

"The girl, well, I don't know. Kinda crazy. As for Thomas, that kid's got some courage. But ain't it kinda weird to kill a Griever on his first few days? Either way, man, I don't wanna get in his way. Not after what he did."

"Good that," the Track-Hoe replied before I left the room.

The day passed normally. Thomas and Minho came back, I had a dinner of mashed potatoes and steak and then went back to my spot near Frankie. I slept soundly that night, but that night of rest could never have prepared me for what lay the next morning. I was shaken awake by Frankie, a look of fear on his pale face.

"What is it, Fr-" I started before noticing something. The sky was a pure gray.

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><p><strong>Thanks for reading! I've been swamped for homework, and on top of that, I've had to remember most of the first book by memory (I've lent my copy to a friend), so I couldn't push this out as quickly as I wanted to. This is going to be one of my favorite parts of writing this fanfiction, and the escape from The Maze was a really cool event in all three of the books, and another exciting part to write will be the thunderstorm in The Scorch (Don't worry, I have the other books). Remember to review and give me feedback, and expect a new chapter soon!<br>**

**'Till we meet again!  
><strong>


	5. Chapter 5: One by One

"What the shuck?" I muttered aloud.

"Yeah, I know, right?!" Frankie exclaimed.

"W-What happened to the _sun?_" I asked, dumbfounded.

"Your guess is as good as mine, man," Frankie replied.

Oddly enough, I saw some of the Gladers going to work. Tim, the boy who made a joke my first day in the Glade, who actually helped me feel comfortable with that little joke, walking with Max to the Bloodhouse. Jeff heading into The Homestead. Zart and two more Track-Hoes, Stan and Adam, working hard. I remembered how backbreaking the farm work felt and winced. I got up after a stretch, and Frankie wandered off, probably to get to work himself. I strolled to The Homestead, and joined a couple Gladers for a tasty breakfast. As much as we joked about it, Frypan wasn't that bad a cook. I was sitting next to Dave, an early Glader, someone who I befriended in my first month or two of living in The Glade. He talked our ears off about his theories, his green eyes full of excitement. He had short blonde hair, and quite the imagination, judging by the fact that he gave us five theories, none of which we believed because they were too absurd. Seemed like he's been talking to Frankie lately. I went upstairs to check on John, who's leg was healing better than expected. So that's good enough. I changed the bandage and re-cleaned the wound. I was nervous, to say the least. I talked with John, told him about the grey sky. He seemed kind of stunned, and didn't talk much. I sneaked out a sandwich from Frypan's stash to give him some gas in his tank later on in the day for an improvised dinner, and I was heading to take over a shift on watching the girl when Christopher darted up the stairs and ran to me. He stood there, panting.

"Whoa, Chris, you alright there?" I asked.

"The...shucking...supplies," He panted out.

"What about 'em? Did we get anything special from it this week?"

Christopher laughed dryly. "I wish...they didn't shucking come."

I was shocked, about to say something when Jeff shouted something from the girl's room. "She's awake!"

Christopher turned and eyed me, surprised. Unfortunately, a couple Gladers must've heard, because echoes of Jeff's call were being shouted throughout The Glade. I nodded at Christopher, and he went to the foot of the stairs to prevent any Gladers from getting to her. I heard the shouts of Gladers from outside The Homestead. By now, I guessed that most of, if not all The Gladers had gathered outside of the building. I went in the room, seeing the girl. She looked horrified and angry.

"Where..._Who are you_?!" She demanded, spittle flying out of her mouth.

"Hey, hey," I said, lowering my voice so it was more comforting, "It's okay. You're safe. You're not in danger."

"Yeah," Jeff added. "We're not-"

"WHO ARE YOU?" The girl screamed, a foot flying out to make contact with Jeff. He groaned, falling to the floor. _Holy shuck. _

"Jeff!" I cried, heading across the room to him. The girl suddenly grabbed a pen, holding it out as a weapon. I raised both my hands, backing up slowly. The girl dropped the pen, leaping out of bed and climbing out of the window. I focused on Jeff.

"I'm fine, I'm fine," He insisted, waving a hand away. "Shank just kicked me in the nads is all."

Jeff and I ran downstairs and through the group of Gladers, noticing something with horror. I was second-in-command of the Med-Jacks. I had a watch. Only Keepers and Runners had them, but for some reason Clint gave me a spare, never explaining to me where he got it. I was never questioned, either, on how I had a watch. But when I looked at my watch, I realized something, and eyes The Maze, an icy fear crawling over me. A couple Gladers noticed, and asked me what happened. I felt myself go pale. I turned towards the Gladers, eyes full of concern, worry, and some of them with impatience. I looked at my watch again, and a Keeper in the group noticed and looked at his. Soon the entire Glade was aware.

The doors were supposed to close a shucking hour ago.

**.**

**.**

**.**

I nailed on one of the boards near the East Door. I was working alongside a couple other Gladers, including Theo, who was scared, I could tell. Theo was a confident person, and up until now, fearless. But he gripped the hammer with white knuckles and his hands were shaking tremendously.

"Theo," I said.

"W-Oh, hey. Y-Yeah, What's up?"

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah...kinda...no," He replied.

I reached out and affectionately patted him on the shoulder. The Glader jumped, startled, and then took a breath and resumed work. I felt bad for the boy. I noticed Max, Winston, and a couple other Slicers coming out of the Bloodhouse. Some, like Max, had meat cleavers in their hands, others with butcher knives. I took a look towards the other doors. It wasn't going to hold. But it was something. I jogged to The Homestead with Theo. Christopher was waiting for me. He motioned for me to follow, and I ended up in a room with Christopher, Frankie, Chuck, and Stan, the Track-Hoe, among others. I sat awake for a couple hours, as did a couple others. A few Gladers, like Stan, tried to sleep and ended up turning and tossing in their sleep. I felt fatigue wearing on when I heard a sound. A whimper. I looked over, noticing Chuck. He was trembling. I reached out and squeezed his shoulder. The boy flinched, much like Theo did. I felt a pang of sadness.

"Look at me," I whispered to the Slopper.

Chuck's eyes were big and full of terror. "W-What?"

"We're gonna make it through this," I said. "You just gotta be strong. We all gotta be, y'know? Think you could do that for me?"

After a moment of hesitation, the boy nodded. "I...I think I can do that," He whispered back.

"Great," I replied.

Eventually Chuck napped, as did most of the others. The only one still awake other than me was Stan, sitting up, staring at the wall with wide eyes. Nothing was off about the wall, but the Glader seemed intent on staring it down. All of a sudden, I heard a crash and voices. Even from upstairs, I heard the voice. It was Gally's. Stan seemed to have recognized the Builder's voice too, as he was looking at me, face pale, eyes the size of basketballs. _Gally,_ he whispered. I nodded too, imagining I looked just the same. More voices. Thomas'. Newt's. Something crashing. After another minute, I heard the sound of a Griever, Gally screaming, and then silence. Frankie had awoke, propping himself up on one elbow, looking confused, only hearing Gally's screams. He started to say something but Stan clamped a hand over his mouth, a finger to his lips. Frankie nodded slowly, but sat up. Soon the Griever sounds receded. I got up and peeked outside. Gladers were running down the stairs and into The Glade.

"The shuck Grievers'll take one of us a day 'till there isn't anyone else!" Theo shouted out, emerging from Thomas and Newt's room.

"What the shuck?" Stan exclaimed.

"I don't know. Let's find out," I offered.

I stepped out of the room. I saw Jeff walking towards John's room. We walked single-file: Me, Stan, Frankie, Christopher, a couple others, and then Chuck at the back. I headed down the stairs, where our little group dispersed. I was walking with Christopher when I heard Adam calling me and Christopher over. I followed him to a group of Gladers huddled around the Map Room. I knew it was where the Runners stashed their maps and recorded stuff for the day, but I never paid it much attention. Until now. Until it was on fire. But once I got through the group, my mind was a million miles away from the blaze in the room.

Alby lay on the floor, blood gushing out of his head.

* * *

><p><strong>Thanks for reading! The only reason that I was unable to push this chapter out sooner was simply because I had a project to work on. I'll get working on Chapter 6 as soon as possible. I have already determined the fates for all the Gladers. In my opinion, Clint survives the entire series. William will also survive to make it to Paradise, too. <strong>


	6. Chapter 6: Ashes, Ashes

"Shuck, shuck, shuck!" Christopher cried out, applying a wet rag to the bloody Glader's head. We had carried him to the couch, not wanting to bring him up. I applied a another wet rag to the boy, wiping away blood as it spilled out.

"Chris! Get a shuck bandage!" I snapped.

"On it!" He replied, coming back moments later with a roll of gauze. I wiped away the rest of the blood on his face, and let the Med-jack apply the bandage rapidly. When he was done, the boy's face was heavily bandaged, almost as bandaged as Ben was. I shivered, recalling his screams. The fellow Med-jack sighed in relief.

"Think he'll make it?" I muttered aloud.

"Better be. Without this shank, the Glade's a mess," He replied.

"It already is."

"You know what I meant," He replied before heading out of The Homestead. Jeff came down and helped me get Alby into another room. The rest of the day was nervous, to say the least. People were working, but there was this tense air about our Glade, like everyone was anticipating the night came, I ended up in the living room of The Homestead. The night was tense, with everyone refusing to sleep. I could tell that most of the boys in the room were groggy and tired, and as I impossibly closed my eyes, finally, I heard the sound of wood splintering following by the whirring sounds of a Griever and Gladers screaming and footsteps hauling it out of the room.

"_Help me! Please! Someo_-" A voice screamed before descending into an utter scream of horror.

"It got Adam! The shuck thing got Adam!" Someone shouted in hysteria. I jumped up from my spot, as did a couple others. A boy in my room named Jonas opened the door and darted out. Stan followed him, and then myself. I went directly to Alby's room. He was safe. Then to the next room, John's. Shucked up but up. He was able to walk now, but wanted to rest. No slacking in The Glade, but I let him rest. _After all, we're all gonna die anyways, right? _I thought to myself before scolding myself for having such a thought. I felt around in my satchel that the Med-jacks wear around their waist, and retrieved a water bottle. I let him have a couple sips, then handed him a piece of bread before heading downstairs. Gladers looked around, screamed at the sky, cried, complained, mindlessly went to work, and everything few and far between.

"The shuck place is a mess," I heard Max's voice from behind me.

"Yeah, that's one way to put it," I replied, not taking my eyes off of our comrades. I sensed him step up next to me.

"The Runners better come back with some shucking good info," He commented.

"Yup," I said back.

"Alright, I'm gonna go get Jonas and a couple others. Still got pigs to slice, cows to chop," He said.

I chuckled. "You go do that, Max."

"I just intend to. Hey, some advice? Adam was a Track-Hoe. They're one down. Might wanna go help 'em." And with that, he walked off. I headed to the fields, remembering the backbreaking work of being a Track-Hoe. But I remembered the work well enough. Adam was dead and John wasn't in the best of shape, so Max was right, Track-Hoes were definitely gonna help out. I took place besides Stan and started to pick some corn. And that's what I did all day. Worked without thought. Anything just to get away from the gray skies and the other Gladers. I made small talk with Stan. Talked about The Glade. About what we'd do when we got out. When evening rolled around, I ate a hasty dinner of tomato soup after helping Frankie repair the South Door. Looked like an 8 year-old's work, but it would at least prevent 'em for awhile. I took my place in the room where the girl, Teresa I think, was placed. Chuck was given the bed on orders of myself and Frankie (Who readily backed me up), albeit the Gladers grumbled. With the combined effort of exhaustion from working in the fields and lack of sleep, I almost passed out immediately. I was awoken seemingly a few hours later by Jonas and the sounds of Gladers outside our room window. Dave sat directly against the window, blue eyes full of fear, sweat matted to his short hair.

"Guys?" He whispered. "P-Please he-" He was cut off as the window splintered and two large pincers grabbed him. I felt the hairs on my neck raise as I started to back up, wanting to cry.

"Dave!" Jonas shouted.

"**H-Help! HELP ME! GOD D-**" Dave shrieked before a long spike, a weapon of the Griever, flew through his chest. His screams turned into dying gurgles as blood dripped from his mouth and gushed from his chest. Chuck screamed with horror as the Griever, a disgusting mass of whalish flesh and pincers and needles, started to climb through the destroyed window, a lifeless David still impaled and hanging from the Griever. Jonas fumbled with the door and finally gave up and kicked it open, screaming "It's got Dave!" before sprinting down the hall. I grabbed Chuck by the arm and sprinted out of the room with him. I felt him sobbing. I opened up another door, tossed him in, then stepped into the door myself, closing it just as the Griever who killed Dave escaped from the room. Chuck was weeping silently now. Poor kid. Probably scarred the guy for life. I stayed in that room for the longest time, refusing to move, just letting him sob it out. I felt tears brimming, too. Adam and Dave were both nice Gladers who really never seemed to get impatient, the both of them always patient. But I had to be strong. For Chuck. For The Glade. For myself. If those shuck Creators think they're gonna make me cry it out, they've got another thing coming. Chuck went downstairs, leaving me in silence. I was about to head back into the hallway when suddenly Jeff burst through the door, followed by Newt and Chuck.

"Move!" He shouted, panic flaring in his eyes.

"What is it?" I asked.

"This!" He responded, moving a body onto the bed. The unconscious head lolled to the head, and I realized with horror who it was.

It was Thomas. My heart plummeted in dread.

"What the shuck happened?" I asked again.

"The buggin' idiot jumped on a Griever, tryna be the knight in shining armor to Dave!" Newt shouted, spittle flying out of his mouth before calming himself. I thought back to not even a half hour ago when Dave was killed. I shuddered.

"Did you-"

"Yeah, Chris here administered the Grief Serum," Chuck responded.

"Chris?" Jeff asked in confusion.

"Yeah, that's your name. Chris."

"No, you shuck, it's Jeff."

"Chuck, you're bloody dismissed," Newt growled, clearly fed up. Chuck nodded and left the room. I looked at Thomas, unconscious.

"Dave was killed," I muttered aloud to nobody in particular.

"What now?" Newt asked.

"Got shucking impaled by one of those monsters...Grievers, right? Shank was dead from the beginning."

"Well, let's not tell him that," Jeff replied, taking one last look at Thomas.

"Good that," I told him before leaving. I went downstairs, ignoring the questions from curious Gladers. And I just jogged. Around The Glade. Around the Map Room, around The Box, around The Deadheads, and around The Bloodhouse (The dog, there, Bark I think, ran alongside me for awhile before getting bored), and stopped where I had been working earlier. And I went to work. Again.

**.**

**.**

**.**

I ended up in the living room of The Glade. The night was like the ones before, but an even icier chill came over me. Pure terror engulfed me and the other Gladers as we heard Zart screaming for help. Zart, the _keeper_ of the Track-Hoes, dead. Killed. Gone. But this time, some of the Gladers stayed inside, particularly the Track-Hoes. I was shocked. As bad as he smelled, I'd miss the guy. He knew how to get his work done.

That day I stayed inside The Homestead for a change. After a quick lunch of sandwiches, I, along with the other Med-Jacks, were given white patches with red crosses on them. Newt was quick in his response, muttering something about "needing it for buggin' later" before walking off. I, along with Clint, Jeff, and Christopher, wrapped the patches around our arms. When it was time (Most of the Builders had given up by now on trying to prevent the Gladers, instead bringing in their claw hammers for weapons, despite Alby insisting otherwise, even yelling at the poor shanks). I ended up in the room next to John's, where a couple of Gladers had been staying with him. I finally closed my eyes after restless nights, and was awoken by screaming, always startling me. Sounds of a struggle and a couple of boys shouting to open the door. Frankie held his claw hammer towards the door. Feet pounding down the hallway, Gladers screaming for each other to move. Wood splintering, smashing. Something slammed into the door, cracking it open a few inches, just to see the form of a boy fall to the ground. Heard the Griever grab the boy by the legs, start to drag him down the hall to his imminent death. But right before the Glader disappeared forever, he looked right at our room, directly at me. Eyes flared with panic and terror, look of horror frozen on his face before he shrieked in agony as the Griever stabbed him with something, and he disappeared, his screams echoing through the hallway. I felt not only my heart in my throat, but a lump, too.

"Who...who was that?" Frankie asked, lowering his hammer with shaking hands.

I refused again to let the tears come. "It was John," I answered, blinking away the tears threatening to come.

* * *

><p><strong>Thanks for reading Chapter 6! This part was easier to write, as one of my friends borrowing the book returned it to me, so it's easier to write. I'm thinking that the fight to the Grievers will be written next chapter two chapters from now. Not much else to say here but expect the new one! I love writing these and hope you all enjoy them, too!<br>**

**MazeLover2002: Thanks, I appreciate it, I'm trying hard to deliver good content!**

**May a Chance: I wrote it according to what happened in the book: He bashed his head on the table in the Map Room after burning the decoy maps. **


	7. Chapter 7: We All Fall Down

"John? Who's John?" Frankie asked.

"A Glader."

"Well, I know that, ya-"

"Slim it, Frankie," I snapped. He looked a bit confused, but obeyed me. This time was odd, though. The only people still daring to move were the boys in John's group, who were clearly horrified, screaming and shouting. After a couple tense minutes, a group from downstairs opened the front door and started going to work. Jonas, eyes still wide, got up slowly, and even more slowly walked out. Most of them followed, and I was left in the room with Chuck. I heard Chuck get up and start walking towards the door, but before he opened it, he asked, "Dude, who _was_ John?"

I looked up at him. "A good guy."

"I'm sorry, man," He said and then left. I lay there, resting my head in my knees. When I first arrived, Newt explained to me that if I get sad, then I give up. And there's no slacking in The Glade. So I guess I'd better get to work, right? Pulling splinters from shanks' hands, bandaging a wound was caused by an accidental swing, anything. I stretched, getting to my feet, and left the room. Nobody was hurt or needed treatment. The only thing remotely close to a Glader in need was John, and he was, well, dead. I didn't want to go back to the repulsive work of the Slicers, and I didn't even bother working as a Track-Hoe, not after what happened to Zart and the others. Didn't have the heart.

That night, I was in the same room. But I passed out from sleep loss. I fell into a really deep sleep, from what Frankie told me. Billy, one of the Baggers, was taken. I didn't even care as I got up. I felt so hopeless, you know?

The day passed. Thomas had awoken from The Changing, but I'd seen what it did to Gally and Alby, so I didn't look at him. I felt, knew, he was special, that he wouldn't be like the others. But I had seen too much. I didn't want to see the stupid effects of those stupid shuck Creators. I was thinking about John, in a daze when I felt a tap on my shoulder. I looked up, seeing Winston, arms crossed.

"Yeah?"

"Will, you still got that shuck-crazy spear of yours?"

"Yeah, yeah, I do. Why?"

"We're taking the fight to the Grievers," He said, a nervous grin on his face.

**1 HOUR LATER**

I gripped the spoon with shaking hands as I ate the hastily prepared meal. Thomas sat next to me, eating like all the others.

"Hey, Thomas?" I whispered.

The boy looked at me. "Yeah?" He inquired.

"If we, uh, if we...if all of us don't make it out of it, then, well...I mean, they're not just gonna take one kid. We're not that stupid to believe that. Shuck Beetle Blades are everywhere. But if I don't make it out of it, don't forget about me. I don't wanna be just some corpse in The Maze."

"Yeah, sure. I won't forget you, Will," He told me before returning to the meal. We finished. I was handed a backpack stocked full with supplies by Winston, giving me a nod almost to say _We're gonna make it through this_. I appreciate the Keeper's nod and if I made it through this, I'd remember to be nicer to him. I gathered around the others.

"Be careful," Minho said dryly. "Don't die."

I would have laughed, but the butterflies in my stomach allowed no such thing.

"You all know the plan," Newt followed up. "After two years of being treated like mice, tonight we're making a stand. Tonight we're taking the fight back to the Creators, no matter what we have to go through to get there. Tonight the Grievers better be scared."

I cheered out, then Max did, beside me. Then Stan. Then a couple others. Soon the forty-one of us were shouting and cheering. "Hear that, Creators?! We're coming!" Newt screamed and then ran into The Maze, his limp barely showing. The horde of boys, our improvised, pathetic army, followed him, still shouting and screaming. After a few minutes, I quieted down, trying to save my stamina. Newt was right. The Runners were the best of the best. I was wheezing and exhausted like none other. My legs felt like jelly, and my lungs burned as the footsteps of our group echoed up the wall. By this point, it was hard to move and I had a sidesplitting cramp. Others showed signs of exhaustion, too, but none of us gave up. None of us stopped. I was on the brink of collapsing when we stopped. I was catching my breath when I heard noises. Griever noises that chilled me to the bone. The moans and the whirrs and the clicks.

"There's a dozen of them. Maybe fifteen. They're just waiting for us!" I heard Minho say.

Alby and Newt moved through our ranks. "Well, we knew there was going to be a fight," Newt said.

Thomas tried to say something but was cut off as another wave of Grievers surrounded us from the way we came. Then another. We were surrounded. I readied my spear, and Max, splitting axe in hands, raised his as well, prepared. They were just watching. Those stupid Creators were probably getting a kick out of this, watching us stare into death. The Grievers kept emitting their mechanical sounds and kept on shucking moaning. We compressed into a tighter circle, fear flooding all of us. I was facing the Cliff, staring down on the Grievers when I heard some chatter and then felt Alby push towards me. What was he doing? Newt shouted at him to come back, and he responded by taking off towards The Cliff. Newt started screaming, and I looked over briefly to see Thomas holding back the second-in-command. I squeezed my eyes shut, hearing the Grievers descend upon the former leader, killing him. I saw what happened to Dave and John. It wasn't pretty. And then, when they were finished, they went back to their normal state. I heard Newt, clearly depressed, and then Minho, but it wasn't clear. Then I heard Minho, clearer this time.

"Listen up! Number-one priority is to protect Thomas and Teresa! Get them to The Hole so-" Minho started.

He was cut off as the Grievers revved up to life again, ready for the fight. I realized with absolute dread that Alby's sacrifice was in vain.

"We head straight for the Cliff! Fight through the middle, push the shuckin' things toward the walls. What matters most is getting Thomas and Teresa to the Griever Hole!" Minho yelled. He raised his weapon. I looked back at Thomas, nodded at him, he nodded back. I thought of my family, my mom, probably crying in bed right now that I was missing, kidnapped, as my dad thought about me at work. The picture broke my heart. I had no face to picture my parents, but I made one up. I felt rage building up. At the Creators. For taking me from my parents.

A scream erupted from my throat among the other Gladers' war cries and I charged in. Metal clashed against wood, and the screams filled the air. I dodged a swipe by a Griever, plunging my spear into where its head should be. It shrieked, and Max swung his axe at the same one I was attacking, swinging rapidly at a buzzing saw piece, cutting it off. It retaliated by thrusting a long, black blade at Max, slicing him in the leg. He yelped, faltering for a second before returning to battle, a look of pain on his face. I sliced part of its back. I heard a shriek near me and looked to see Jonas stumbling backwards, clutching his arm. Or what was left of it. From the elbow down, there wasn't anything. Just blood gushing like a waterfall. He kept walking backwards until a Griever grabbed him from behind, and I looked away as a bloodcurdling scream filled the air. I focused on my Griever, the disgusting, slug-like abomination I was fighting. Eventually, we were able to push it against the wall. I heard someone shriek for help, and I looked to see Jeff, struggling with the Griever. I looked on as it slowly, almost tenderly placed a saw around his neck. Jeff paled, and I looked away just as the saw started, Jeff disappearing in a spray of red mist. Christopher joined us as we attacked the shuck Griever. It swung out randomly again, a sword-like appendage slicing Christopher deep into his stomach. He gasped, falling to the ground. I screamed in anger as the Griever stuck a knife into his eye, ending the Glader's life. It stabbed me in the thigh, and I barely felt the pain with the panic-induced adrenaline driving me on. Theo replaced the spot where Christopher lay, blood still streaming out of his eye socket and stomach. The boy was armed with a barbwire-wrapped club, and we fought the Grievers, switching off on those who got too close, as Gladers screamed for help as they were killed, the clanging of weapons and the shrieks of Grievers filling the air. Blood covered my hands and arms at this point, and whose blood it was didn't matter to me. All I cared about was fighting. Suddenly, a blunt object swung out of the Griever we were fighting, hitting Theo. He fell on the ground with a grunt, gripping his head. It hit Max too, causing him to crouch the ground, clutching his stomach. It switched to me, hitting me in the neck with it. I fell backwards, grunting as I hit my head. The Griever held me down with the black, blunt weapon, raising a silver knife. I felt icy fear flood me as the Griever raised it above my head. And suddenly, before it killed me, it powered down. The knife clanged harmlessly to the side, and I quickly rolled as the Griever plopped to the ground. All of the other Grievers had powered down. The Gladers who stood looked around, confused, as if it were some cruel joke and they were going to come alive again.

"Did we just bloody..." Newt started.

"I..I think we did," Theo replied, getting up with a moan.

"Phewf...I told you shanks it was all gonna work out, didn't I?" Minho said.

I surveyed the corpses of my friends. Christopher. Jeff. Jonas. Other boys who I'd been good friends with. "Yeah...Yeah, you could say that," I responded. Minho nodded at me, and then he nodded his head towards the Cliff and started walking towards it, Newt following him. Frypan and Winston after that. Soon we were all heading to the Cliff. I took one last look at the carnage, looking away quickly once I noticed Christopher's bloody, broken corpse, and jumped into the Griever Hole.

The next hour was a blur to me. All I could figure out was that Chuck was dead and that there was this some disease called The Flare. We were taken to this building that was so colorful compared to the deteriorating Glade. We were given new clothes. I received a beige T-shirt and new, bright-blue jeans. We were given pizza. Shuck pizza, lick-your-fingers-clean, extra cheese, pizza. I felt the shock go away a little bit, even managing to crack a smile. But the shock from everyone's deaths had seemed to have taken its toll on me. I shared a bed with Frankie, and was so exhausted I almost fell to the ground when climbing to the top of the bunk. I drifted into a deep sleep, and didn't ever want to awaken. Ever. I was done being a Glader. Done being a Med-jack. I just wanted to be a kid again. With a family, and friends, and a school to go to. But as I drifted off, I had the vague feeling that my fantasy would never be true. So I accepted being a Med-jack. Accepted being a Glader. Accepted all of that klunk.

* * *

><p><strong>Finale of Book One! I'll write about The Scorch Trials, but I've been working my sorry butt over this chapter. 2,000 words. I try to keep my stories 1,000 to 2,000 words per chapter, and that seems to work out just fine for us. So look out for The Scorch Trials parts, coming out probably in a week or so. I think I need a rest from fanfiction for awhile.<br>**

**AsgardianGrizzly: Thanks! Yeah, I noticed that a lot of stories are just Girl OCxNewt or something like that, so I decided to mix it up a bit. I always wanted to expand the roles of Gladers in books and that stuff.  
><strong>


	8. Chapter 8: New Day, New Trials

It was early. I let out a casual yawn, looking over to see Winston sleeping peacefully on the book next to me. Frypan snored somewhere near my bunk. I got up, plopping off the bunk. I put on my shoes, and went towards the window. I lazily grabbed it, peeling open the curtains, expecting to see a rising sun. Instead, I saw bars. And standing outside of the bars was a sore-riddled, disgusting man. He took notice of me, slamming a fist through the glass. I screamed, falling back as glass sharks hit me in the face.

"What the shuck?" I heard Winston groan, getting up before he presumably noticed the crazy man and screamed loudly.

"Kill me! Kill me kill me kill me! I'm a Crank! You hear 'at, boy? I'm a bloody Crank!" The man shrieked.

A couple other boys were shouting and screaming, and out of the corner of my eye I saw Theo running towards the bathroom. "You shanks, what in...Bloody Hell..." I heard Newt exclaim. More glass shattered, and more shrieks of the Cranks filled the air as well as the other Gladers' panicked shouts. I leaped to my feet, backing up slowly. Theo stumbled out of the bathroom, face pale. The fifteen-year-old still had some vomit on his chin and he wiped it away with his sleeve. Frypan was gaping at the Cranks, barely moving, hand pointed towards a Crank, a young woman missing a shuck eye. Frankie darted towards the bathroom, eyes locked on the Cranks, until he faceplanted the door. He looked stunned, stumbling across the room like a squirrel that just forgot where he buried his nuts. Thomas had awoken, but I didn't pay any attention to him. A boy I didn't recognize, I think he was a Runner, approached one of the barred windows, seemingly enraged. He almost got to the window before Clint grabbed him, jerking him back. He quickly uttered a couple words that seemed to clear the boy's mind, and he sighed, placing his face in his hands, sinking to the ground. I noticed Minho jiggling on the doorknob leading to the dining area where we had eaten pizza the night before, and I stepped up behind him.

"Any luck?" I asked.

"Not in a million shuck years, Will," Minho growled, clearly frustrated with the recent turn of events. Winston took his place next to me, as did Frankie, moaning and rubbing a bruise on his head. Then another kid, Jackson. And a couple other boys. Soon the surviving twenty boys were gathered around the Keeper of the Runners. I felt Newt move past me, and I swear I could see his blonde hairs sticking up on his neck. The boy tried the same, jiggling the doorknob. Still no result.

"It's locked," I heard him mutter as if he was unearthing some ancient city.

"Really, genius?" Minho exclaimed, more fed up than ever. "No wonder you were named after Isaac Newton—such an amazing ability to think."

"Let's just break this bloody handle off," Newt said, ignoring Minho's remark.

"I wish those shuck...Cranks would shut up!" Minho yelled, pointing towards one of the Cranks, a disgusting-looking woman. He was true, the Cranks' screams were annoying at this point. Made you feel icy at the core, but were annoying.

"Cranks?" Frypan repeated. The terror seemed to be taking its toll on him than anyone else.

"That's what they keep calling themselves. Haven't you heard it?"

"I don't care if you call 'em pussy willows, just find me something to break through this stupid door!" Newt snapped.

"Here," Theo said, a fire extinguisher gripped in his shaking hands. Newt took it, and after a couple smashes, the door was open. He absentmindedly handed it back it to Theo, who looked as if he was just given a piece of technology 1,000 years ahead of its time. He set it down on the floor.

"Let's go," Newt said.

"Wait," Frypan voiced. "Are you sure we're gonna go in there? That door was locked for a reason."

"What else are we gonna do? Wait for those loonies to get in? Come on," Minho argued.

"Those freaks aren't breaking through the window bars anytime soon," Frypan retorted. "Let's just...think this through for a second."

"Time for thinking's done," Minho replied, his foot slamming forward into the door, sending it open. The darkness seemed to beckon the other Gladers and me in. "Plus, you should've spoken up before we blasted the lock to bits, slinthead. Too late now," he added. Frypan grumbled something under his breath. I felt something in my stomach, butterflies. A sense of apprehension, like when we surrounded by the Grievers back in The Maze. Like there was a giant monster waiting in the darkness.  
>After nobody volunteered, Minho said, "Shuck it, I'll go first," and strolled right in, dissolving instantly in the darkness. Newt followed, then Thomas. Clint followed, then the Runner whose name I forgot. Alexander, I think. Theo followed. Frankie mockingly bowed, flashing a humorous grin. I returned the grin and went in, hearing Newt calling out, "Found it!" and then turning on the lights. Newt turned on the lights, and I felt myself go numb.<p>

"Whoa!" Minho yelped.

"Holy klunk..." Frankie muttered beside me.

Alexander backed up, slowly, eyes wide with horror. A couple Gladers seemed to be in shock. Jackson attempted to formulate words but they just came out as a stutter. Out of the corner of my vision, I saw Theo fall over a table bench and retch again. The smell - and sight - was unbearable to stomach. I gagged, but nothing came out. Some kid, another one of the Runners (I think only three of the current Runners survived the escape), covered his eyes, sinking to his knees. The sight was unbearable. The sight of the people, our caterers, hung from the ceiling.

* * *

><p><strong>Thanks for reading! Hope you all had a nice Thanksgiving! This was a quick introduction to The Scorch Trials book. I liked writing the first part because I could make up whatever I wanted, but now I have to copy actual quotes from the book which is a great deal of trouble. Anyways, like said a couple chapters earlier, I've determined how all the other Gladers die. I'm pretty sure all survivors are named in the trilogy itself, so none of my own Gladers would've ever lived, anyways. But here are the fates of all my Gladers, each one crafted and created with a purpose, along with some Group B girls. <strong>

**Theodore, aka Theo: Killed by Group B girl after attacking Frypan a couple days after contracting The Flare.**

**Maximilian, aka Max: Killed by Bulb Monster, affects William tremendously.**

**Charles, aka Charlie: Killed by metal ball (Will meet his fate next chapter)**

**Freddy (Will be introduced): Killed in the thunderstorm  
><strong>

**Calla (Will be introduced later on, Group B): Alive, killer of Theo after he went insane  
><strong>

**Amelia: Alive**

**Annie: Dead, killed by Bulb Monster  
><strong>

**Rebecca: Alive**

**So that's it. Look out for the next chapter, and I'll see you then**

**Newtie (Guest): Well, here's your response! I will write about The Death Cure as well.**

**Mazerunnerlover2002: I know, right?**


	9. Chapter 9: The New Guy

Minho yelled something but I couldn't make it out. The smell, the sight...everything was sort of blurry for me. I gagged again. Thomas made his way to a door, shouting something about a fire extinguisher. Winston staggered over, gripping the tool with shaky hands, and would've dropped it if Newt hadn't taken it from his hands. Like Theo back at The Glade before the Grievers came and killed Zart and the others, Winston was showing almost no signs of the boy I once knew. I rose to my feet, feeling my knees wobble. Max stumbled over to me, face pale. Green eyes wide with horror, and wrapped one of my arms around his shoulder, acting as a support. I couple steps towards the now-broken door and I felt myself steady. Max took my arm off of his shoulder, and strode alongside me as we walked. Minho walked outside.

"Alright, shanks, in here," He ordered, jerking a thumb behind him to the other room.

"Teresa there?" Alexander asked, caution in his voice. Like a couple of the other surviving Gladers, Alexander was still suspicious of Teresa. Probably because once she showed up, their friends died painful and brutal deaths. I was past that, but my heart still ached for Christopher and John and the others. Minho gave a shrug and started talking to the other Gladers. Frypan followed, then Max, then Theo, then me, following in the rear. What I entered was a smaller, windowless version of the boy's room. It was suspicious, and I was still tense and worried. No doors. I took a seat on the bed, and ran my hands through my dark brown hair, pretending to scratch an itch on my neck. Something was gonna happen. The other boys seemed to feel the same. Theo absentmindedly rubbed his arms, exhaling loudly. The door to the bathroom where Teresa was clicked, and I expected Thomas's girlfriend to come out. But instead, there was another boy. It was...stunning. He wore the same attire most of us wore: our pajamas.

"Who are you?" Thomas snapped, his words impatient and harsh. This poor shank must be scared half to death.

"Who am I?" The other kid scoffed. "Who are _you_?"

Newt got to his feet. I had a feeling this kid's attitude would get him smacked, sooner or later. "Don't bloody mess around. There are more of us than there are of you. Tell us who you are."

The boy folded his arms. "Fine. My name's Aris. What else you wanna know?"

Thomas was clearly getting fed up with Aris. "How'd you get here? Where's the girl who slept here last night?"

"Girl? What girl? I'm the only one here, and it's been that way since they put me here last night."

"There's a sign right out there that says this is her room. Teresa ... Agnes. No mention of a shank named Aris," Thomas growled, pointing towards the common area.

"Look, man, I don't know what you're talking about. They put me in here last night, I slept in that bed," He said, pointing towards a rumpled bed, "and I woke up about five minutes ago and took a pee. Never heard the name Teresa Agnes in my life. Sorry."

"Who put you in here last night?" Newt asked.

I don't even know, man. A bunch of people with guns who rescued us, told us everything would be okay now," Aris replied. This wasn't right, didn't feel that way.

"Rescued you from what?" Thomas asked.

"From the Maze, man," Aris responded, his face going pale. "From the Maze."

_What?_ I thought to myself. The shuck Maze? No way. This kid was whacked. Probably hit his head when getting up or something. Everything sort of phased out. I heard voices, but they seemed far-off. I saw the other boys organizing the beds in a circle around the room. Tim grabbed the top bunk, placing it on the ground. Images flashed through my mind again: John screaming in the hallway, the Griever's knife being driven through Christopher's eye socket, Jeff getting sawed to death, all the other Gladers getting killed in painful and agonizing deaths. I heard the Aris came from a different Maze, with teenage girls instead of boys, but I didn't pay too much attention until Stan called out, "Hey. What's that on the side of your neck? Something black, right below your collar."

"What?" Aris asked, trying to turn his neck to see it."Here, let me have a look," Newt said, limping over to the kid. He pulled down his shirt. "It's a tattoo," He exclaimed.

"What the shuck?" Tim whispered.

"What's it say?" Minho asked, although he was already walking across the room. Thomas got to his feet as well.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Minho pondered.

"What's it say?" Aris demanded, trying to twist his neck to see.

"'Property of WICKED. Group B, Subject B1. The Partner.' Property of WICKED? I thought we'd escaped them. Or you'd escaped them, too. Whatever," Newt replied, becoming frustrated and returning to his spot on his bed.

"And why would it call you the Partner?" Minho asked.

Aris shook his head in confusion. "I don't have a clue. I swear. And there's no way that was there before last night. I showered, looked in the mirror. I would've seen it. And someone would've noticed it back in the Maze for sure."

"You're telling me they tattooed you in the middle of the night?" Minho snorted. "Without you noticing? Come on, dude."

"I swear!" Aris insisted, getting up the check the words himself in the bathroom.

Minho rolled his eyes, getting up and plopping down on the mattress. "Whoa!" Thomas yelped, looking down at Minho. _Oh no,_ I thought.

"What?"

"Your...Your neck. You have it on your neck, too!" Thomas got out.

"What the shuck you talkin' about?"

"Holy ... It's right there! Same thing, except ..." Thomas trailed off as the rest of us huddled around Minho.

"What, dude?!" Minho yelled at him.

"Property of WICKED. Group A, Subject A7. The Leader," Thomas replied.

Once Thomas said that, all hell broke loose. The Gladers started grabbing each others' shirts and I felt Newt pull mine down. "Property of WICKED. Group A, Subject A20. The Companion," He exclaimed. _The Companion? Why am I a companion? And to who?_ I thought, pulling down Clint's shirt. "Clint, you're Subject A-thirteen," I reported. He nodded at me, and opened his mouth to say something when he was cut off. By the Greenie alarm. The shucking _GREENIE ALARM._ Clint grabbed his ears, stumbling over to a bed. The other surviving Runner whose name I never learned did the same. I looked at the walls, and a couple others did the same. Max had a blank look on his face, staring off into nothingness. I turned to Minho. _The shuck Greenie alarm,_ I mouthed. He nodded to me, mouthing out a _The shuck happened when I was gone? You shanks set off a alarm in like a minute when I was gone?_ in reply. I cracked a grin before turning and sitting on a bed next to Theo, who was nervously biting his fingernails. Never before had I seen Theo like that. Like said, he was always that guy who tried to be brave and acted fearless. But now, I guess he'd changed, after what happened. I was about to shout something about Greenies to Theo when the alarm stopped. It just flat-out stopped. And the room was so loud. Nobody moved. Nobody spoke. But the silence was so loud, like a ringing in my ears. Then Newt spoke.

"Don't tell me we're gonna get bloody Greenies thrown in our laps."

"Where's this Box in the shuck place?" Minho replied sarcastically.

A slight creak forced everyone to look at the door from which we came. It had been creaked open several inches into darkness. Someone had shut off the lights again. _Oh, you gotta be shuckin' kidding me right now._

"Guess they want us to go out there now," Minho said.

"Then why don't you go first?" Frypan offered.

"No problem. Maybe we'll have a new little shank to pick on and kick in the butt when we got nothin' else to do. We could use another Chuck," He replied. I felt a sting, remembering Gally throw the knife at Thomas. Chuck taking it. Bleeding out on the ground. I knew he was just joking, but I didn't want to even acknowledge that.

"Yeah," Thomas said after a pause. He was close to Chuck. Must have crushed the shank. "You going through or you need me to go first?"

"What did your tattoo say?"

"Doesn't matter. Let's get out of here."

"Good that. If some zombie starts eating my leg, help me."

"Deal," Thomas responded. A couple Gladers got into defensive position, readying their fists or clutching a pillow like a battleaxe as Minho vanished. I noticed Theo staring off into space, trembling. I slowly put a hand on his shoulder.

"W-What? Did someone die?" He said in a hushed whisper.

"Uh, no. Why would you-"

"Here there are!" Minho shouted, and followed by a couple clicks and the lights flashing on. My mouth dropped as I got off the bed, stumbling to the room.

They weren't there.

The bodies were gone.

* * *

><p><strong>Thanks for reading! Kinda screwed up here with the lateness, but I tried. Thing is, some stuff happened and I couldn't write because I couldn't use my copy of the Scorch Trials, so I had to find an online version which took ages. Anyways. I'm thinking of making another fanfiction. So basically, Maze Runner fanfiction is primarily based on three sections: <strong>

**1) OC arrives in The Glade, falls in love with Newt, Minho, Gally, or Thomas.**

**2) Another group, with OC submissions. Usually with mixed genders.**

**3) Other: Fanfictions like mine or those set after Paradise. Basically those who don't like random fanfics about pairing or aren't interested in a third group. **

**I'm thinking about having Group C, just with males. The original copy was with mixed genders, but it was too generic and I didn't have fun (Not being sexist) writing about it. But look out for that. I should be able to put these chapters out more often. Also, do me a favor and check out Mazerunnerlover2002. He/She is a great person with cool fanfictions! I'd appreciate that (Not doing shout-outs...this was of my own accord). Next chapter will be longer, probably ending with the group finding their way out of the Flat-Trans. Thanks!  
><strong>


	10. Chapter 10: Darkness and Disaster

"The shuck-face went to sleep," Minho said.

"What?" I replied, turning around. About fifteen minutes had gone by since we discovered that the bodies were gone. And now where the Cranks once were, there was a brick wall. Thomas was sleeping soundly on a bed. I laughed at how stupid that looked. Going to sleep while all this happened? Yeah, Thomas must be real special, all right. Minho laughed as well.

"Good thing the shank can sleep. Let's just hope he doesn't get sleepy when we're fightin' Cranks and taking names."

"You said it," Minho agreed before walking off.

I sat down on a bed, rubbing my eyes. Maybe sleeping wasn't such a bad idea. The Gladers had calmed down at the sight of the sleeping Thomas, and now talked among themselves in small groups while others sat on beds. I lay down on the soft pillow, shuddering a sigh of sadness as I drifted into the dark.

**THREE **

**HOURS**

**LATER**

"Done with nap time, shuck-face?" asked a voice. I cracked open my eyes, seeing Frankie's face. I smiled.

"Hey. And yeah. What...what happened?"

"You conked out, you shank. We've been waiting here, nothing exciting really happened except some idiot ran into a wall trying to destroy the bricks," He replied, nodding towards Theo, who had his hands on his head and lay motionless in the bed, the only sounds of life emitting from him being a mix between a groan and a whimper. I sat up, swinging my legs over the bunk and on the ground.

"So...now what?"

"The shuck am I am supposed to know? I guess we just sit here for another two years."

"Frankie," I started, "We'll be dead by the end of two weeks, forget two years."

His signature grin returned. "Fair point."

I got out of the bed, and left him there. Clint strolled past me, giving me a nod of acknowledgement as he went to check on Theo. Stan was talking to Alexander. I noticed Max, leaning against a wall, looking bored. I was about to start up a conversation when I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned to see the Runner, whose name I _still_ hadn't learned.

"Hey," he greeted me.

"Hey. What's up?"

"Alright, man, I ain't gonna lie to you," he started, leaning in close. His hazel eyes had a little glint of excitement in them. "All twenty of us ain't gonna be making it out of this shuck place, ya hear? Some of us are gonna die along the way, right? Well, I figured this back home in The Glade, and took a notepad and pen and wrote down all the names of all our mighty Gladers, 'cept you." I noticed he had a small notepad and a black pen in his hands. He put emphasis on the word mighty.

"So, you want my name, is it?" I asked.

"Bingo."

"All right, I'm William, one of the Med-jacks," I said.

"William...Med...jack," he muttered, scribbling it down. He showed me the page. The page had the names of some Gladers. The notepad was small, so the names of other Gladers must have been written down somewhere else. There were some names like Minho, Ben, Stan, Alex, Jonas, Jeff, Clint, and at the bottom of the list, Harry and William.

"And what's your name?" I asked the Runner.

"Harry," he replied with a huge grin.

"Your idea is smart. We won't all make it out alive. You're not a dummy."

"Good that," he replied, laughing a little. "I think all the dumb ones are dead."

I kept smiling, but I wasn't happy anymore. As Harry wandered off, asking some other boy, I thought about the ones that died. John, Zart, Dave, Jeff. Were they all stupid. Was Christopher stupid? Was his death in vain? I kept reflecting on it, and stumbled over to a bed. A couple other boys called out, asking if I was okay. I didn't answer them as I collapsed on the bed, burying my hands in my face. I remembered teaching Christopher. He was the Greenbean that came after me. I didn't call him that, because it angers or saddens them when they hear people talk about how they're new and useless, and as a result affects themselves and the other Gladers. I closed my eyes, remembering teaching Christopher how to sew a wound, where to apply pressure, where to administer the Grief Serum successfully. I always answered his questions, was patient. The other Gladers joked around, wondering if all the following Greenies'd be Med-jacks. I remembered tus four Med-jacks; Clint, Jeff, Christopher, and I. Now two of those Med-jacks are dead. Their deaths were all too vivid in my memory. Jeff getting his throat sawed. Christopher falling to the ground, shirt splattered with blood as the dagger slid through his eye socket, his weak scream silenced. I felt a rage in my chest and screamed out, swinging a fist and banging my hand against the metal frame of the bunk bed. Pain jolted through my hand

"Ow, shuckin' _klunk_!" I grunted.

"Whoa, chill it nice and calm there," warned Newt, approaching me. A couple of my friends tried to divert the attention away from me. Frankie cracked a joke about Theo while the injured Glader flashed a goofy grin. Max started talking to Jackson and Alexander. Newt crouched down to eye level. I still lay on the bed, massaging my injured hand. "You're not doin' so hot, huh, Willy?" He said.

"Sorry...I was just thinkin' about before. When everyone was still alive, y'know? About the ones we lost."

Newt clamped a hand down on my shoulder. "They were good guys. Not a chance in buggin' hell they aren't in a better place now."

I nodded as he got up and walked around, but I knew they weren't in a better place. They were still in The Maze. Still covered in blood. Still dead. Some of them might even be alive, gasping for air and calling out for help in a hoarse voice as the last of life left them. I directed my thoughts from the scene. I felt tired again, rubbing my eyes. We'd probably be here for the rest of the day, and then we'd probably get "rescued" again. I sighed. Just gotta wait for the night.

**.**

**.**

**.**

Hunger is a horrible thing. I was never too hungry in The Glade, getting three solid meals a day. But as the day passed, I felt my stomach growl. A couple others complained. Then the second day rolled around, and the complaints turned to moans. I kept silent, barely moving from my spot except to go guzzle down water in hopes of quenching the monster in my stomach. It seemed to enrage it, scratching at me and biting me. My knees buckled around dusk of the second night, and it took incredible strength to get back up and lay in my bunk. When I woke up, I felt thirsty again, and barely managed to make it back to my bunk again. I passed out again, awaking only to hear Harry and Alexander shout in surprise that must have been two hours later. I heard other Gladers start shouting, heard the creaks of the bed frames as they jumped out, heard them whooping in happiness. _What?!_ I screamed in my mind, trying to get up. I saw the form of someone walking up to me. I craned my head up to see Frankie. He had two apples in his hand.

"Wha..." I croaked.

"Don't...Don't talk. Just...eat," he commanded, handing me an apple. The first bite sent energy running through my veins, and I chomped down a couple times. Frankie sank to his knees, letting out a sigh as he did it.

"Man," my friend grunted, taking a bite of his apple, "I thought we were gonna die."

I sent another grunt in response. He was about to say something else when his eyes lit up with recognition. "Oh, forgot," he started, "Take a look in the dining room when you have a chance." And with that, he smirked at me, handing me a few granola bars as he walked away. I wolfed them down, and got out bed, heading to the bathroom to get a drink. After drinking from the sink, I walked into the main room, noticing Minho talking to Thomas on his bunk. I opened the door, and saw a giant pile of food. Vegetables, candy bars, fruit. If we were back in the Glade, Frypan would've had a good time. I walked over, plopping down on the ground next to Max.

"Hey, dude," he greeted through a mouthful of orange.

"Hey, you disgusting slinthead," I replied with a smile. I went to look over on the other side of the room and my mouth dropped. There, dressed in full white, was a man, legs propped up on a desk, reading a book. He ignored us. I noticed that Theo had thrown a punch at the man, only for his fist to come short as it slammed into the wall. He shouted out a curse, stumbling away from the wall. There was an invisible shucking_ force-field_. I grabbed a stick of celery, tossing it at the man. It hit the force-field, falling to the ground. I saw Minho and Thomas come out of the bedroom, and Thomas gaped at the man. Frankie, who was sitting with his legs crossed, called out an explanation. Thomas started walking towards the rat-like man.

"Careful," I called out.

It was too late. Thomas slammed into the wall. I looked away as he tried to figure out what was happening. Instead I turned to Max, and started talking to him. Casual stuff, cracking jokes, talking about the life before the Glade. We did that for another forty-five minutes, all the while stuffing our faces. Frankie joined too, and started joking about how I looked like I'd klunk my pants on my first day in the Glade. I was about to retort to his joke when Rat Man cleared his throat, signaling that we should crowd around him. Newt got up and walked towards him, and a couple others followed. I stretched, finishing my apple and then getting up. Soon, all of the surviving Gladers had gathered around the Rat Man. He had brought his feet down from the desk and had closed his book. I was rubbing my arms, feeling a chill in the air suddenly. It was awkwardly quiet until Minho broke the silence.

"I think we've all gone psycho like those...what'd they call themselves again? Cranks. The Cranks at the windows. We're all sitting here waiting for a lecture from Rat Man like this is totally normal. Like we're at some kind of school. I can tell you this much—if he had anything good to say, he wouldn't need a freaking magic wall to protect him from us, now, would he?"

"Just slim it and listen. Maybe it's all gonna be over," Newt shot back.

"Yeah, right," Minho said. "And Frypan's gonna start having little babies, Winston'll get rid of his monster acne, and Thomas here'll actually smile for once."

I looked to Thomas as he flashed a goofy grin at Minho. "There, you happy."

"Dude, you are one ugly shank."

"If you say so," Thomas replied.

"Shut your bloody holes. I think it's time," Newt commanded with a whisper.

I hadn't paid any attention until Rat Man spoke in his stupid nasally voice. "Ah, here it is," he said, placing a manila folder on the desk after shuffling through a drawer. He opened it up, and looked at us. "Thank you for gathering in an orderly manner so I can tell you what I've been...instructed to tell you. Please listen carefully."

"Why do you need that wall?!" Minho shouted. I heard Newt punch him and tell him to shut up.

"You're all still here because of an uncanny will to survive despite the odds, among … other reasons. About sixty people were sent to live in the Glade. Well, your Glade, anyway. Another sixty in Group B, but for now we'll forget them," Rat Man said, ignoring the outburst. He glanced at Aris, and then continued.

"Out of all those people, only a fraction survived to be here today. I'm assuming you've figured this out by now, but many of the things that happen to you are solely for the purpose of judging and analyzing your responses. And yet it's not really an experiment as much as it is ... constructing a blueprint. Stimulating the killzone and collecting the resultant patterns. Putting them all together to achieve the greatest breakthrough in the history of science and medicine.

"These situations inflicted upon you are called the Variables, and each one has been meticulously thought out. I'll explain more soon. And though I can't tell you everything at this time, it's vital that you know this much: these trials you're going through are for a very important cause. Continue to respond well to the Variables, continue to survive, and you'll be rewarded with the knowledge that you've played a part in saving the human race. And yourselves, of course," Rat Man explained, pausing, probably for effect or some stupid klunk.

"I represent a group called WICKED," Rat Man continued. "I know it sounds menacing, but it stands for World In Catastrophe, Killzone Experiment Department. Nothing menacing about it, despite what you may think. We exist for one purpose and one purpose only: to save the world from catastrophe. You here in this room are a vital part of what we plan to do. We have resources never known to any group of any kind in the history of civilization. Nearly unlimited money, unlimited human capital and technology advanced beyond even the most clever man's wants and wishes.

"As you make your way through the Trials, you have seen and will continue to see evidence of this technology and the resources behind it. If I can tell you anything today, it is that you should never, ever believe your eyes. Or your mind, for that matter. This is why we did the demonstration with the hanging bodies and the bricked-up windows. All I will say is that sometimes what you see is not real, and sometimes what you do not see is real. We can manipulate your brains and nerve receptacles when necessary. I know this all sounds confusing and a little scary, perhaps."

The Rat Man scanned his eyes over every Glader in the room. When he came to me, the last one to be glanced at, his gaze lingered for some odd reason. I suddenly noticed that a white patch with a red cross on it was sewn onto the left sleeve of my beige T-shirt. I leaned forward, observing the rest of the Gladers, and I noticed Clint had the same patch on his white shirt. _A medical patch,_ I thought to myself.

"The Maze was a part of the Trials. Not one Variable was thrown at you that didn't serve a purpose for our collection of killzone patterns. Your escape was part of the Trials. Your battle against the Grievers. The murder of the boy Chuck. The supposed rescue and subsequent trip in the bus. All of it. Part of the Trials."

I noticed Thomas half rising to his feet, probably at the mention of Chuck. Luckily Newt pulled the shank down. Unfortunately, Rat Man seemed to be spurred on by this, and he leapt from his chair, sending it to the ground.

"All of it has been part of the Trials, you understand? Phase One, to be exact. And we are still dangerously short of what we need. So we've had to up the ante, and now it's time for Phase Two. It's time for things to get difficult."

My jaw dropped as the room lapsed into silence. Phase Two? What in shuck's name is _Phase Two_?! I felt like screaming at him but nothing came out. I buried my face my hands as Rat Man continued on.

"You may think, or it may seem, that we're merely testing your ability to survive. On the surface, the Maze Trial could be mistakenly classified that way. But I assure you―this is not merely about survival and the will to live. That's only part of this experiment. The bigger picture is something you won't understand until the very end. "Sun flares have ravaged many parts of the earth. Also, a disease unlike any before known to man has been ravaging the earth's people―a disease called the Flare. For the first time, the governments of all nations―the surviving ones―are working together. They've combined forces to create WICKED―a group meant to fight the new problems of this world. You are a big part of that fight. And you'll have every incentive to work with us, because, sad to say, each one of you has already caught the virus."

Rat Man cut off the rumblings of Gladers as I buried my face deeper into my hands. I wanted to punch Rat Man, strangle him, kill him. Everything was fine a month ago. I was patching up the stupid Slicers or Track-Hoes, maybe bandaging a Runner's wound. Now, only three Runners are alive, who knows how many Slicers are still breathing, and I think all the Sloppers are dead and half of our Med-jacks are dead.

"Phase Two. The Scorch Trials. It officially begins tomorrow morning at six o'clock. You'll enter this room, and in the wall behind me you will find a Flat Trans. To your eyes the Flat Trans will appear as a shimmering wall of gray. Each of you must step through it by five minutes after the hour. So again, it opens at six o'clock and closes five minutes after that. Do you understand?" Rat Man asked.

"I'm quite certain you can all hear. Do...you...under...stand?"

A couple boys muttered yeahs and yesses, and I took my hands away from my face, and started to stare him down. He glanced at me for a second, then returned his gaze to the rest of the Gladers.

"Good." Rat Man absently picked up another piece of paper and turned it over. "At that point, the Scorch Trials will have begun. The rules are very simple. Find your way to open air, then head due north for one hundred miles. Make it to the safe haven within two weeks' time and you'll have completed Phase Two. At that point, and only at that point, you'll be cured of the Flare. That's exactly two weeks―starting the second you step through the Trans. If you don't make it, eventually you'll end up dead."

_Dead._ That last word snapped everyone out of their appearance, and started asking questions. Minho yelled at them to shut up.

One hundred miles. North. Hope you make it. Remember―you all have the Flare now. We gave it to you to provide any incentive you may be lacking. And reaching the safe haven means receiving a cure." He turned away and moved toward the wall behind him, as if he planned to walk right through it. But then he stopped and faced them again.

"Ah, one last thing," he said. "Don't think you'll avoid the Scorch Trials if you decide not to enter the Flat Trans between six and six-oh-five tomorrow morning. Those who stay behind will be executed immediately in a most...unpleasant manner. Better off taking your chances in the outside world. Good luck to all of you."

**o0o**

I only slept for a couple hours, but it felt like I'd been in a coma. I awoke around four in the morning, and I repositioned myself in the bed. The snores of other Gladers sounded below, including Frankie, who sounds like a walrus when he sleeps. I started to think. About life before. I remember how I hated everything and everyone, except for maybe Frankie when I arrived in The Glade. Now, I'd do anything to get back to that first day. The familiar wave of sadness and nostalgia that rushes over one filled me, and I let out a sigh. I craned my head to the left. Winston slept peacefully. I remember when I called him Winny on my second day in The Glade. The look of confusion on his face will never leave me. I cracked a smile. I craned my head to the right. Minho, his snores sounding like animals being tortured. I looked down, seeing Thomas, awake.

"Hey," I whispered to him.

"Hey," he whispered back.

"You ready?"

"Shuck no."

I smiled. "I don't think any of these shanks are. But we made it this far, nowhere else to go, huh?"

Even the dim light, I could sense Thomas smiling. "I guess not. In about an hour and a half, we'll find out."

"Yup. See you on the flip side."

Before I knew it, I was standing in line with the other Gladers to jump through the Flat-Trans. I noticed that, without fail, every single Glader hesitated a second before jumping into the gray wall and disappearing. Clint was in line, and when it came to his turn, he turned his head to look at me.

"Here goes nothing," He said before hopping in. I stepped forward, and waited about ten seconds, just staring into the inky darkness. It was only when someone gave me a nudge from behind when I closed my eyes and hopped through.

I fell into darkness, my feet landing square. I took a couple steps forward when someone's voice called out.

"Who just jumped in?" It was Minho.

"Me. William," I called out.

"Good. Both the docs are here." I think that voice was Jackson, the Bagger. I cracked a smile at that comment. It made it seem as if Clint and I were special in some way.A couple others jumped through, and Minho was talking about finishing up attendance when I heard someone come through the Flat Trans, yelling like an idiot. and crash on another Glader.

"Ow!" the Glader yelled. Alex.

"Everyone be still and shut up!" Minho yelled. "Thomas, was that you? Are you in here?"

"Yes! I was the last one to come through. Did everyone make it?"

"We were lining up and counting off nice and easy till you came stumbling through like a doped-up bull," Minho responded. "Let's do it again. One!"

"Two!" yelled Thomas after a pause.

"Three!" I shouted.

"Four!" called out Winston.

From there the Gladers counted off, shouting out a number, until Aris finished with twenty.

"Good that," Minho said. "We're all here, wherever here is. Can't see a shuck thing."

The other boys were breathing, but no one moved. Everyone, including myself, was too shuck scared to move.

"Too bad we don't have a flashlight," commented Thomas.

"Thanks for stating the obvious, Mr. Thomas," Minho replied. "All right, listen up. We're in some kind of hallway―I can feel the walls on both sides, and as far as I can tell, most of you are to my right. Thomas, where you're standing is where we came in. We better not take any chances of accidentally going back through the Flat Trans thingamajiggy, so everyone follow my voice and come toward me. Not much choice but to head down this way and see what we find."

I could hear him shuffling, and I started to walk, holding my food and water in the packs made of bedsheets and pillowcases. The other boys started to follow. What annoyed me the most was that I could never see anything. Like, if you're in a dark room, eventually your eyes adjust to the darkness. But nope. Not a slightest hint of light here. Zip. I bumped into a kid's shoulder and he whispered, "Who's that?" It was Max's voice.

"Just me," I whispered back in the darkness.

"Dude, this is shucked. Super shucked. Even more shucked than when the shucking shuckity shuck shuck doors wouldn't shuckin' close back home."

I grinned a bit. "So I guess it's pretty shucked, then."

"You don't even know the half of it."

I was about to reply with a witty comment when a bunch of intense whispering filled the air. The grin dissolved faster than the Rat Man the day before, and I paused. Max gasped a little bit.

"Everyone stop moving!" Minho yelled. "Did you guys hear that?"

A couple boys muttered yeahs and started asking questions. Minho shushed them quickly. I waited in the darkness for not even a minute before the whispering happened again.

"Did anybody get what it said?" Newt asked.

"Couple of words. Sounded like 'go back' right in the middle," Winston replied.

"Yeah, it did," Theo agreed in the darkness.

"Everybody slim it and listen real hard this time," Minho ordered. The hallway immediately lapsed into silence.

The next time it came, I could heard every shuck syllable. "One-chance deal. Go back now, you won't be sliced."

My mouth dropped. Max stammered out as other Gladers called out questions.

"Just keep going!" Thomas shouted up to Minho. "I can't take this much longer. Just go!"

"Wait a minute." Frypan's voice. "The voice said this was a one-chance deal. We have to at least think about it."

"Yeah," Alex added. "Maybe we should go back."

"The shuck we will," I replied. _We're not going back. No way in hell._

"The voice is just a test, I bet. We need to keep going," Thomas agreed.

"He's right." This was Minho from up in front. "Come on, let's go."

Thomas barely finished the sentence when the voice whooshed through the air, and it's message flooded my veins with horror. "You're all dead. You're all going to be sliced. Dead and sliced."

_Too bad, you stupid voice. I'm going._ I started to trudge through the darkness, and Minho started to lead the pack again. Eventually, the air got warmer, along with what seemed like dust in the air. I got thirsty, coughing a bit. I had that sort of burn in your throat when you're thirsty. I ended up next to what seemed like Winston and Frankie. Frankie was whispering puns at us in the darkness. Horribly dumb puns. But it helped as we kept on walking through.

"Hey," Frankie whispered.

"What?" Winston and I both replied.

"What's the difference between Frypan's food and dirt?"

I heard Winston sigh. "What?"

"Dirt is-"

Frankie started to shriek. He bumped into me, almost knocking me to the ground. I heard him collapse. "Frankie?!" What the hell's wrong with you?!" I shouted, frozen with fear. Something was wrong. His scream was that of agony. He was writhing, kicking me in the knee. I backed up as someone pushed through the other Gladers. I felt my stomach drop to the ground as horror filled my entire body. My hand started to shake as the person reached Frankie. "Hey! What's wrong with you?" he yelled. Thomas. After what seemed like a struggle, Frankie's screams came to a stop suddenly, as if he had just been pulled underwater or thrown in a soundproofed room. A couple of seconds later, Frankie stopped convulsing. What the shuck was going on?

"What's wrong with him?" Clint yelled in the darkness. I heard a clang, and what sounded like something rolling away. I felt dread this time. Something bad happened to Frankie. Something bad happened to him. He might be alive, just unconscious.

"Thomas!" Minho's voice. "Thomas! What happened?"

"I...I don't know. Who was that? Who was down there screaming?"

Winston, his voice shaky. "Frankie, I think. He was right next to me, just making a joke, and then it was like something yanked him away. Yeah, it was him. Definitely him."

"What happened!"

"I heard him screaming, and ran up here to help. I jumped on him, tried to pin his arms down, find out what was wrong. Then I reached for his head to grab him by the cheeks―I don't even know why―and all I felt was..."

"What!"

"His head wasn't a head. It was like a...a big...metal ball. I don't know, man, but that's what I felt. Like his shuck head had been swallowed by ... by a big metal ball!"

"What're you talking about?" Minho asked.

"Didn't you hear it rolling away right after he stopped screaming? I know it―"

"It's right here!" someone shouted. Newt. I heard a heavy scrape again, then Newt grunting with effort. "I heard it roll over here. And it's all wet and sticky―feels like blood."

What the klunk," Minho half whispered. "How big is it?" The other Gladers joined in with a chorus of questions.

"Everybody slim it!" Newt yelled. When they quieted, he said flatly, "I don't know." I heard him carefully handling the ball to get a feel for it. "Bigger than a buggin' head for sure. It's perfectly round―a perfect sphere."

"Maybe we should go back." Harry. "Whatever that ball thing is, it sliced off Frankie's head, just like the old shank warned us."

"No way," Minho responded angrily. "No way. Thomas is right. No more dinkin' around. Spread out a couple of feet from each other, then run. Hunch down, and if something comes near your head, hit the living crap out of it."

I complied, and the nineteen of us kept running. I felt numb again. Felt numb as we kept running, and felt numb as the death ball latched onto Alex's head. As we kept running, I just had three words in my head.

_What just happened?_

* * *

><p><strong>Thanks for reading! Sorry for not posting, but, I mean, this chapter has 5100 words. Granted, a lot of it is the Rat Man's speech, but ye. I'll try to upload more chapters, but homework is getting real hard now after winter break, so I'm sorry. On the up and up, I'll be uploading artwork of my characters to Deviantart. Follow me at TGA10 to see it. A lot will be doodles and stuff but I'll upload some stuff every once in awhile. So in this chapter, Frankie and Alex die. Rest in peace, the both of you. Now for some fan reviews:<strong>

**Stargazer-Dreamcatcher01: Thanks! I always wanted to know all the randoms, which was the primary reason for the creation of this fanfic. I also appreciate the feedback on the OC!  
><strong>

**101olive4u: It's great that you love it! I try to bring the best for my followers, even though updates may not be steady. Also, the reason for not giving Clint a title is because he was an ordinary Glader, and it stated most of the boys had only the letter and number, no title. That way, I made William special as he was a Candidate for finding the cure. I would pick "The Healer" for him and I might bring it up later!  
><strong>

**AsgardianGrizzly: Thanks! I'm writing a story soon, some new ideas would be appreciated!**

**Mazerunnerlover2002: Alright, I'll keep that in mind! :D**

**See you all soon,**

**-TheGoldenApple10**


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